


Langue de l'amour

by Confetti (Kittykat748)



Category: True Blood
Genre: Bad French, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Secrets
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-07-04
Updated: 2013-10-12
Packaged: 2017-11-09 04:41:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,696
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/451402
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kittykat748/pseuds/Confetti
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Poor Alcide, it doesn't seem like he can ever catch a break. After some family friends of the Bellefleurs come to Bon Temps, he starts feeling things for the young dame. Word around town, though, is that she is off limits. There's also something strangely familiar about her brother.<br/>Que the fireworks!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Where the Hell is Bon Temps Anyway?

In the little commune of Arcachon, population less than 13,000, lives the Fabre family. That just happens to be the family I, Xandria Fabre, was born into. My parents professors at one of the colleges in our area, where my brother, Brent, attends.

I suppose there's no way to avoid saying it, but, my parents are black. They are also French natives and Huguenots. As genetics would have it, I am also quite dark. Unfortunately, genetics can't determine my faith, which has been a problem within my family for years now.

I've just finished my last year of college and I'm determined to experience more than just French culture. When a group of my close friends said they were going to America, I was eager to go as well. Convincing my parents was much harder than I had originally intended.

In the end, I agreed to go to America and visit some old family friends, but on one condition. Brent had to go too.

 _ "Maman, Brent is still in school. I don't know how long I'll be gone and he'll just be in the way,"  _ I had argued. She shook her head sharply, her medium length brown hair still wet and splashing water everywhere.

_ "It's like this, Ria. Either Brent goes too or you stay in France. It's for your safety, ma chérie ,"  _ my father said. The smoke from his pipe blew into my face and I gagged internally.

_"But Papa..."_

_"Pas de mais._ _ My way or the highway. "  _ Ever since my father had heard Brent exclaim that, he's been using it in every conversation. It didn't sound as resolute when my father said it because of his thick accent, but I understood.  


I stormed out of the house then, angry at myself and my parents. I walked down the street for a while until I got to the beach. Arcachon has beautiful beaches on the Atlantic coast, which is where I can always find my brother. Always. When the sun is high in the sky, he's laying out in the sand, tanning.

"Brent!" I exclaimed as I neared him. He turned his head lazily in my direction. I couldn't see his eyes from behind those wide sunglasses of his, but I knew he saw me.

"Quoi?" he sighed. He didn't have a shirt on and his peachy skin was starting to burn in places.

"You know how I want to go to America, right?"

"Yeah."

"Well, Maman and Papa said yes as long as I visit the Bellefleurs."

"Heh. Hope you have fun."

"But, you've got to come too. Or else I can't go."

"Quoi?"

I continued to stare at him until he frowned. Sitting up, he pulled his soaked white tee-shirt over his head. "I can't believe that you'd actually pull me from my basking in the sun for a trip to the United States."

"Please, Brent. I've never asked you for anything ever. This is really important to me."

"Why is this so important, Ria? It's not like you're getting married or something. You have your whole life ahead of you. Every door that could possibly hold something for you is wide open."

"You know how Maman and Papa are. All my life, they've stressed for me to do nothing but focus on studies. Now, I'm done with school and I just wanna have fun. You do every day and I figured you would help me out."

There was a moment of silence. Brent finally stood next to me, our eyes perfectly leveled with each other. "Where would we fly out of?"

"Bordeaux. We'd be headed to Bon Temps."

"That's an hour drive from here! And where the hell is Bon Temps, anyway?"

"Louisiana" I stumbled over the state name. I was starting to regret learning English so late in life.

"Maudit, Xandria." Brent ran his fingers through his light brown shaggy hair. "What time do you wanna leave?"

"As soon as you can get packed. Thank you, Brent." I wrapped my arms around his slender waist and leaned my head against his warm chest.

"There had better be clubbing and drinking involved with this trip. If not, you will regret every second of this trip."

I didn't admit it to him, but I was thankful to have Brent in my family. Though his aloof behavior was commonplace in our house, it was always a treat when he wanted me to hang out with him and his friends. Even if some of his friends flirted with me on a daily basis.

We went home and spent about two hours getting everything together. Our parents stood clear as Brent and I ran up and down the stairs even ten minutes. Eventually, we put everything in the back of our Dad's truck and drove up to Bordeaux.


	2. All Shook Up

Alcide very rarely came into Merlotte's, especially after the sun had set. These past few weeks he'd been pretty down, his thoughts always circling around Sookie and how he could never have her. Her thing with the vampires revolted him.

He tossed back another shot of whiskey as Sam Merlotte kept pouring. Sam and Alcide very rarely spoke to one another, but tonight was different.

"Did you hear about Andy Bellefleur's family having guests from overseas?" Sam asked Alcide, trying to spark a conversation. He watched as the wolf finished his shot, placing the glass on the counter as if to demand more. Sam obliged him and got no answer.

"Heard they were family friends. Andy's been on his best behavior all day. Appears he went and picked them up himself."

Alcide nodded and brought the drink up to his lips. Suddenly, just as the door to the bar opened, his wolf caught a scent and he turned abruptly.

He stared into a set of piercing yellow eyes. A growl bubbled up from his throat and he made to stand, but fell back into his seat as he watched the aggressor step protectively in front of a young woman.

She had light brown hair that was pinned up at the base of her head, a few small curls falling out. Her brown eyes scanned the room, oblivious to Alcide's staring. What caught his attention the most was her mouth, pulled back into the most amazing smile he had ever seen.

The aggressor kept a close eye on Alcide as he, the young woman and Andy Bellefleur were seated at a booth. The chatter of the other patrons, which had ceased the moment Alcide growled, had returned and become more lively.

"Everything alright, Alcide?" Sam asked again, a little louder than he had before. When his eyes changed to yellow, Sam had a feeling things were going to get ugly.

"Who are those people?" Alcide asked a bit gruffly. His head had followed Andy and the two unknown people and remained trained on them.

"Those must be the Bellefleur family friends." Sam placed the rag he had over his shoulder onto the countertop and walked over to the booth.

Alcide's heart was beating more rapidly than it had in several weeks. He watched as Sam chatted them up, asked their names, how long they were staying. He became jealous as Sam received her smile. He found himself wanting to be the only one to see it.

He shook his head, as if trying to dislodge those obsessive thoughts. He never felt that way and wouldn't start now.

Sam came back with a smile on his face. "I was right. Those are the Fabre kids. The boy's name is Brent and that's his older sister, Xandria. They've come to stay the summer with the Bellefleurs."

Alcide nodded, swallowing the warmer shot in disgust. He was slipping back into the funk he had been in earlier and Sam had to think on his toes to keep him in good spirits. Otherwise, he would continue to come in and drink all of his expensive alcohol.

"Listen, Alcide. You know as well as I do how scattered Andy is. Why don't you swing by the old place tomorrow and show them around? I'm sure they'd love seeing America."

Alcide nodded a little more enthusiastically. He slapped his money onto the counter, which Sam pocketed immediately. With one look back at the sibling pair, he walked out into the night.

What would follow him even as he stripped down and ran back home in his wolf form would be that boy: Brent. With those yellow eyes. Almost like he was.... No, that's not possible. Is it?


	3. Stranger Things

Landing in the airport just outside of Bon Temps wasn't as exhilirating as I thought it would've been. At first I had been very excited to finally be leaving the country, but it quickly wore off on the long, boring plane ride. Brent didn't really talk to me much, still not in high spirits about going with me. I suppose whatever girl he was seeing back home was what he was most worried about.

You could totally tell which one of us was the older, more responsible sibling...

What was the hardest thing for me to fathom, and what kept me from being excited again, was all the security measures and such. Once we got off the plane and went up the "jetway", which I had so horribly called the large breezeway, we were swept into this current of talking people who were all headed in the same direction. We found ourselves at the mouth of this metaphorical river with these lines of hundreds of people.

"What are we waiting here for?" I asked Brent, not sure if he knew. He looked back at me in line, shrugged his shoulders, and turned back around, looking off into the distance.

I sighed and looked at the person behind me. He has dusky skin, platinum blond hair, a tall, solid build and a pierced lip. Naturally, he towered over me and I resisted the urge to tap him on the side.

"Excuse me," I drawled. He looked down at me with a sort of smirk on his face. "Pardon my accent, but I'm not sure what this is. Why are we standing here?"

He nodded and point way far ahead of us, which of course I couldn't see. "U.S. Immigration," he answered, hinting at a slight British accent himself. I tilted my head to the side in a questioning way and he explained further. "Up there, at the front of the line, there is a man sitting at a booth. When you walk up, he's gonna ask to see your passport. Have you been to American before?"

"No, this is our first time here."

"That changes things a bit. When you get up there, you'll want to give them the passport, your arrival/departure card and any letters or official documents saying why you're gonna be here. These pencil pushers don't want you to be comin' in and trying to take jobs or some rot."

"Oh no, that's not why we're here at all."

"Make sure you mention that, then. They'll ask you some questions. Don't fuck those up 'cos you might end up waiting in a separate room for hours."

Brent must have been listening in, though how he would've heard anything over the rumble of noise was beyond me, as he turned around and grabbed my shoulder. "Thanks so much for helping my sister. I think we've got this now. Right, Ria?"

I nodded to him. I turned back to the British stranger. "Thank you so very much."

He wiggled his lip piercing with his tongue. "Not a problem, doll."

Brent still had ahold of my shoulder and dragged me in front of him. His mouth bent close to my ear.

"Just give them all of our paperwork and let me do the talking, alright?" he insisted.

"Okay," I conceded.

The line seemed to inch forward at a terribly slow pace, Brent all the while holding me as though I would suddenly bolt for it.

_Maudit._

When it was finally our turn, we got a few harsh looks from the Immigrations official. And by "we", I meant to say "I". I got a few harsh looks from the Immigrations official. Thankfully, I didn't have to say anything that would put us on the waiting list. Brent very smoothly and calmly answered every one of the man's questions.

"Now head over and we'll grab our stuff," he said once we'd been handed back our passports, with brand new stamps.

"Okay."

The ordeal of finding our bags was horrendous. People were all standing scared, as though the baggage wheel was going to eat their children. Finally, some song, which I later learned was the song played at horse races in America, came on and the bags began flowing forth. Brent found ours rather quickly and pushed us along to U.S. Customs, which was like customs in Bordeaux. We stood in another long line only to be asked if we had anything to declare and we said no, which was honest.

Finally, we made it though the main terminal and the clock only read 7:32. I looked outside the large windows and saw that it was clearly 7:32 _p.m._

We walked outside in the muggy night and found a man leaning against one of the columns. He had a sign hanging lazily in his left hand, the grey and white patterned tie he wore loosened. Brent turned his head to one side and I followed suite.

"Xandria and Brent Fabre," it said.

"Who is that, Brent?" I asked hesitantly as we inched our way closer to this man.

"He must be a Bellefleur. They are the only ones who knew that we were coming."

"Excuse us, Mr. Bellefleur?" I called out.

The man's head shot up and his face got a bit red. He quickly held up the sign and we stopped directly in front of him. "Fabres?" he asked.

"Yes, we are," Brent answered.

He hastily put down the sign and stuck out his hand. "Andy Bellefleur, Sheriff of Bon Temps."

We shook hands and stood awkwardly for a few moments. "Um, ya'll hungry?"

"Starving," I admitted, mainly for myself. Since Brent and I sat next to one another on the flight, though, he had to not eat anything either. My allergies made flying super difficult.

"Let's put this stuff in the car and I'll take you to Merlotte's."

To say the car ride was awkward would've been an understatement. There was no talking what-so-ever. I had pulled my hair up into a bun, as well as I could with my curls. Only when we pulled up to the bar did Andy say anything to us.

"Come on in." We walked in and saw the small crowd of people who were eating and such. It was really quaint and I couldn't help but smile.

Brent walked in front of me as we heard a faint growl, which I had assumed was a dog from outside. Andy remained oblivious and we all walked to a booth.

"Excuse me," a man said. I looked up and saw a nice man with a scruffy beard looked down at Brent and me. "Who are your guests, Sheriff?"

Andy's face lit up and he pointed to each of us in turn. "This is Brent and Xandria Fabre, friends of the family. I brought 'em here to get something to eat."

"Well, not to brag, but Merlotte's has some pretty good food. I'm Sam Merlotte, the owner."

"Nice to meet you," Brent muttered. When I reached and shook Sam's hand, I couldn't contain my smile.

"I'll be back in a second to take your orders personally."

Sam walked away and we watched him approach this hunched figure at the bar. Something about him unsettled Brent, who muttered under his breath. Though Andy couldn't have possibly heard him, being that I was seated directly in front of him, I caught it clearly.

"Who does that chien think he is? We just got here and he's gonna act all hostile?"

When the brooding stranger finally left, Brent relaxed and we eat in silence. I couldn't stop thinking about what Brent's problem was.

**Author's Note:**

> Quoi --> What?  
> Maudit --> Damn


End file.
